


My least favorite canon AU

by Blackarrow_bagels1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Destiel, Donna - Freeform, background jody/donna, characters barely mentioned: sam, jody - Freeform, no beta we die like dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29253063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackarrow_bagels1/pseuds/Blackarrow_bagels1
Summary: This is punishment for geekthefreakout's comments on discord. Basically, it's that AU Chuck showed Sam in season 15 where Cas takes on the mark after locking Chuck away. Claire dies on a hunt, and the mark is destroying everything that makes Castiel Castiel.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	My least favorite canon AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geekthefreakout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekthefreakout/gifts).



> like i said earlier, this is PUNISHMENT for geekthefreakout. I didn't mean to write this, and it's unbeta'd. I was happily writing cas getting OUT of the empty but i had to stop dead in my tracks, delay eating dinner, and write this because I imagined this after geekthefreakout started talking about that AU. Sorry about this. The supernatural longfic is on its way! I've written like 4k words for it instead of doing my English homework.

Wraiths didn’t work together. Not a single lore book or personal experience indicated it. But even still, a veritable *pack* of them ambushed Dean. Stupidly, he wanted to work this case alone, promising to call Sam and Jody when he found her. 

Unfortunately, he found her. Claire’s body wasn’t mangled. By some cruel working of Chuck, she was completely recognisable, blue lips, clouded eyes, bloody hair and all. A small hole at the nape of her neck was the only clue to what finally got her. Unable to hold it back anymore, he wept. It wasn’t fair. Claire was still a girl, not even twenty, with her entire life ahead of her. Donna would talk for hours about her exploits, giggling like a new mother. Her wrists were stiff, still not accustomed to the recoil of a pistol. Dean looked at his daughter’s vacant face one more time, cursing himself. Cursing Chuck. Cursing the world. Cursing whatever was close enough. With trembling hands, he managed to dial Jody, barely able to croak out his location. Night fell when she joined him, Sam and Donna in tow. Even though his eyes were dry, he sobbed all over again, the communal misery of parenthood overcoming his body. In the morning, the others left, mournfully carrying Claire’s limp, lifeless body to the car. Dean chose to stay, a silent rage boiling his blood. He was going to find the wraith that did this.

He didn’t have to look very far. The pack ambushed him, taking advantage of his solitude. Before he could get his bearings, count just how many were attacking, he was knocked out, the silver blade left by where Claire’s body used to lay. When he finally came to, tied to a chair alone in a barn, it was because of the throbbing headache. One wraith was talking, telling him some plan that involved family and God, but Dean didn’t pay any attention. His vision was still swimming, and breathing hurt more than usual. Sluggishly he cracked his neck, blinking back the pain of his dry eyes. It was a cold night. The wraith, still monologuing, suddenly laughed. Dean finally looked at him, already planning different ways to take him out. 

“Your boyfriend’s here,” the wraith hissed, throwing Dean’s phone towards him. Distantly, he could hear what sounded like a car engine stop, and a door slam closed. Realization, followed by dread, settled in his stomach. The wraiths had killed Claire. But when a group of hunters came after her, they planned an ambush, ready to kill them all. And their first target was Castiel.

Before he could say anything, the barn door flew open. Illuminated by car headlights, Castiel looked downright angelic in the doorway, breathing heavily. He locked eyes with Dean, something cold and deadly in them, before lunging. Wielding the first blade like it was his own angelsword, he made quick work of the first wraith to attack him. It came out of the shadows, but was no match Cas. A few more attacked, but it was useless. The odds were stacked against him, seemingly endless waves of the creatures coming out of an intentionally terribly lit barn. Moving with fluid grace, Castiel made his way through the hoard, finally hesitating when there was only one left. Panicked, it cut Dean free, begging for its life in exchange for Dean’s. Its pleas were cut short when Cas decapitated it, using a single swing to send its head flying. 

“Thank yo-” Dean’s breath caught as he looked at Cas. His entire front had been painted red, the blood of god knows how many creatures staining his clothes. Those intense blue eyes Dean used to dream about were unfocused but sharp, as if he were concentrating on a thousand different things. There wasn’t time to figure out what that meant, because as soon as Dean trailed off, Cas attacked. The blade sunk deep into Dean’s side, the full weight of Castiel’s body sending them both tumbling to the ground. Fight or flight took over, adrenaline pumping in Dean’s veins. He tried to push Cas off him, but the angel had him pinned, inhuman strength behind every punch. He felt blood vessels burst, red flecks of it flying across his vision as Cas continued to wail on him. Pain clouded his thoughts, the blade in his side twisting deeper before being wrenched out at the wrong angle, carving off a slice of his waist. 

“Cas.. please-” Dean coughed, the mere act of breathing proving difficult. His ears could barely hear the words, the pounding of his heart too loud. Cas didn’t appear to hear the words either, a calloused hand wrapping around Dean’s exposed throat, squeezing whatever was left out. Dean kicked and squirmed, tears falling from his eyes, desperate to live, but nothing loosed the iron grip around his neck. The barn began to blur, his head’s throbbing agony only getting worse. Sluggishly, he stopped moving, muscles screaming for air. This was it. This was how he died.

A cold feeling washed over his body, and the pain began to fade. There was a soft humming, barely audible above the ringing in his ears. Dean didn’t look for the source, instead taking a moment to lay on his back. This wasn’t the worst day of his life, but it was certainly on the list. Flashes of Cas lunging at him, intense eyes wanting nothing more than violence and death, played in his mind. A slow minute passed, his body feeling better and better with each sluggish second. Dean turned his head, feeling the hand cupping his cheek. He’d recognise that hand anywhere. Castiel’s shaking form loomed over his. The humming Dean heard got clearer, transformed into his husband’s deep sobbing. Cas wouldn’t look at Dean, instead bringing their foreheads together. 

“I’m sorry.” he breathed, desperately. It was Castiel speaking, having over powered the Mark just long enough to heal and apologize to Dean. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” he repeated, the whispered confession hot against Dean’s skin. His hand shook against Dean’s face, the power of the Mark still intoxicating and incessant. Dean’s eyes wandered, until he found Cas’ other hand. It was holding the first blade, knuckles white with tension. Cas continued to apologize, his voice almost hysterical now. Dean wanted to believe it, to lean into his touch and forget this night ever happened, but he couldn’t. Not while the blade was still in Cas’ hand. Not while the hand that had choked him only minutes ago was so close to his neck. Not while the mark still engulfed his husband, simply waiting for another opportunity to kill. Not ever again.


End file.
